


Magic in the Moonlight

by Fire_Bear



Series: Birthday Paladins [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I'm not sure it's severe enough to be full on 'torture'), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Prophecy, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: When Lance turns 10, he's told that he is going to be a hero - a prophecy said so. But, almost 8 years later and he's beginning to doubt the truth in that. Will his birthday bring his supposed true powers or will it be his worst nightmares brought to life?





	Magic in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> (The Klance in this is very minor. But it's there so I tagged it.)
> 
> Also... Uh... Every other Paladin's birthday story in this series is happy - even Keith's. And then Lance gets this. I'm sorry Lance. I just wanted a fantasy AU with you in it and I made you endure this. =/

On Lance’s tenth birthday he got to eat the chocolate off the spoon while his mother made his cake, was given the care of a young calf he named Kaltenecker and was told of a prophecy he was supposed to fulfill - if he was the correct person. The first two, of course, came from his parents. As for the third…

It happened like this: since there were plenty of family members to work around the farm, Lance was given the day off. With Kaltenecker and his youngest sister Solana in tow, he had gone to the front yard, an area given over to the children’s roughhousing and drying wet clothes. All three of them had been running around, Lance keeping a close eye on the younger creatures in his care and the vegetable patch nearby. Kaltenecker soon got bored and began to nose at the grass. That was how Lance heard the hoofbeats.

Intrigued, Lance wandered down to the gate while his sister sat against the fence and tried to stop herself from nodding off. He clambered onto the wooden beam at the bottom of the gate and leaned over, looking up and down the road. At first, he couldn’t make anything out but it wasn’t long until he saw a huge horse galloping along the path. Atop it was some sort of noble, his posture straight. Not for the first time, Lance wondered how they could keep themselves up like that: it looked terribly uncomfortable.

He watched the noble grow closer and took in his appearance, prepared to commit it to memory so he could tell his mother what he’d seen. The man was young, perhaps the same age as his brother, Julio, who wasn't much older than Lance. His black hair was cut short and he had some sort of glinting band on his forehead which kept back a longer tuft of it. Lance didn’t know much about metal but he thought it looked golden, like the sun when it was reflected off water. The armour he wore was a little dusty and was dented at his lower abdomen, an engraving of a black lion over his heart. A sword was strapped to his hip and he had saddlebags over his horse’s rump. Underneath him, the horse was black with a white diamond on his head, fluidly shifting beneath him. Another pair of arms wrapped around the nobleman’s waist.

Lance stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Did the knight have an extra set of arms? Then he realised that there was also a pair of short legs and, when the person leaned out to look at his surroundings, a head with wispy white hair and a beaky nose. Large, round spectacles which made his eyes look bigger than possible had Lance giggling.

Just as they reached him, the bespectacled person spotted Lance. His eyes widened, making him look even more ridiculous, and Lance giggled in earnest. “Stop!” he cried, his voice rather shrill. The knight or nobleman or whoever he was reined in his horse so sharply that the horse neighed in protest and skidded for a few paces. Lance watched in amusement, almost expecting the two of them to go flying. But the nobleman was obviously experienced in his riding for he stayed upright and trotted the horse in a circle until they could both look at Lance.

“This boy?” the nobleman said.

Amusement fading, Lance shrank away from them. He held tight to the gate in case they were about to drag him away from his family or something equally as horrible. However, his mother had taught him manners so he squeaked, “Um… Hello?”

The nobleman seemed to realise how intimidated Lance was because his expression softened into a sheepish one. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he told Lance. “We’re not here to harm-”

“It’s him!” the other person exclaimed, pointing a long, bony finger at Lance. When he flinched back a little, the person added, “He’s the one I felt around here.”

“Uh… What?” said Lance, more confused than alarmed now.

For a moment, the nobleman seemed to debate whether to answer Lance or speak with his companion. In the end, he turned to look down on the little person. “How sure are you?”

“Around thirty point two four four percent,” the person answered promptly. “Precisely the same as the other three.”

“Dammit,” the nobleman muttered.

Frowning at the two of them, Lance waited for more. When the nobleman only sat with a worried expression directed at the fence and the other person muttered to themselves he decided to catch their attention. “Excuse me!” he said, as loudly as he could. He waited for them both to look at him before he spoke again. “What’s a percent?”

“It’s a unit of measurement,” the little person said. “Makes things easier for people who can’t comprehend the billions of numbers that I can conceive.”

Blinking, Lance said, “What’s a billion?”

“It’s-”

“Never mind that,” the nobleman interjected. “We have something very important we’d like to talk to you about.”

“‘Important’?” asked Lance, bemused. What in the world could this rich person want to talk to _him_ about? He was nothing special.

“Yes. May we come in?”

Lance hesitated. “I’m not supposed to let strangers onto the farm,” he said, slowly. “I’ll go get-”

“Lan-Lan!” shouted Solana, rushing up to him. “You let me sleep!” She didn’t stop and barrelled into him so that he lost his grip on the gate, cried out in surprise, and fell to the ground with an ‘oof!’ Apparently unconcerned, Solana crawled over him to pat his cheeks in admonishment.

Before he could defend or extricate himself, there was a shout from the house. Turning his head, Lance watched his mother emerge from the front door, wiping her hands on a towel. She ran down the path, her worried expression growing clearer as she got closer. Lance grimaced: she’d told him plenty of times not to stand on the gate. No doubt he’d be scolded.

Solana saw her coming and scrambled to her feet. Frowning at her, Lance used the gate to get to his feet and watched his mother slow. Before she said anything, though, she caught sight of their visitors and slowed to a stop. She gaped at them as the nobleman gave her a sheepish smile. Then, without warning, Lance’s mother dropped to her knees. Startled, Lance darted to her side with a panicked, “Mama!”

But she only stared at the nobleman, not even turning her head when her precious Solana tugged at her arm. Then, suddenly, she bowed her head. “Your Highness!” she exclaimed. “What-? Has something happened that you would want to… visit… us?”

Amazed, Lance turned to the young man, his eyes sweeping over his attire. He took in, once again, the circlet and the lion on the armour and realised that this must be the eldest prince, Shiro the Just. Prince Shiro looked down at them all and, after a moment’s consideration, he suddenly swung off his horse and stepped up to the gate. Lance darted forward to open it for him, wondering if he was going to get in trouble for talking to the prince without any Highnesses being spoken. Was the other person someone important, too? Were they a Prince Consort? Or was it a Princess Consort? He began to worry about his lack of knowledge: was he supposed to know these sorts of things?

Prince Shiro strode towards Lance’s mother and, before either Lance or his mother could protest, he knelt in the dirt. Solana shifted behind their mother, keeping the arm she clutched between her and the stranger. Her eyes were wide and Lance wished he could move from his shocked position to give her a reassuring hug. Instead, he could do nothing but watch as Shiro reached out a hand to his mother in offering.

“You do not need to kneel,” Prince Shiro told her. “I have been searching for someone. And it looks as though we’ve found him.” He glanced over his shoulder then and caught Lance’s gaze. Eyes widening, Lance felt his breath catch. Why would a prince be looking for _him_?

“It is a good thing we’ve found him, too!” exclaimed the other person from Lance’s elbow. He yelped and jumped away, his heart hammering. “There isn’t much time! We need to take him-”

“Slav,” Shiro admonished.

“Take… Lance?” said his mother, her eyes growing ever wider. “Away? From here?” Lance could see her panic growing and he rushed to her side. She put an arm around him and pulled him close. “Why? What has he done?”

“Nothing,” said Shiro, hurriedly. “But there’s a prophecy.”

Dread filled Lance’s chest. Of all the prophecies that he’d heard, all of them were horrible. Threats of destruction and death and evil pervaded them all. There were only a few glimmers of hope in the fact that there’d be heroes to save them. Lance wasn’t trained in swords or magic so how could he possibly be a hero?

“What _will_ he do?” his mother whispered, her grip on Lance tightening.

The prince took a deep breath. “There will be an organisation that will send this kingdom into chaos. They will have considerable magic. And there is a chance that Lance will be the one to save us all.”

Everything seemed to stop then. Lance’s breathing cut off, his heart stopped beating, he couldn’t hear the birds or the breeze that had been ruffling his hair. Something strange seemed to swirl around him before settling into his body. He stared at Shiro and believed him completely and utterly. Sometime in the future, Lance would be a hero.

“‘Save us’,” his mother repeated, sounding faint. It broke whatever had just occurred and Lance could move again, twisting to look up at her.

“Yes,” Shiro insisted. “But I won’t take him away from you. Please be at ease.”

“Shiro!” Slav exclaimed, apparently displeased with this course of action. “We can increase the percentage if we-”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro raised his voice. “Do you have the time to speak with us? We would like to discuss Lance’s future.”

For a moment, his mother didn’t respond. Then, waving away Shiro’s hand, she got to her feet. “Come in,” she said as she dusted off her dress. “We have birthday cake and I am sure I can make tea.”

“Oh, is it someone’s birthday?” Shiro asked.

“It’s mine!” Lance spoke up. “I’m ten.”

“Oh!” Slav said, ceasing the muttering that he’d been doing since Shiro interrupted him. “That increases the percentage to thirty three point five six! If he received a calf as a present, then that makes it thirty four point nine nine nine-”

“Enough of that,” said Shiro as he straightened. “Happy birthday, Lance,” he told the boy with a smile, ruffling his hair. Lance pouted and twisted away but he couldn’t help grinning afterwards.

“Thanks!”

* * *

Seven years and three hundred and sixty-three days later, Lance woke to a darkened room. It was a little unnerving since he’d gotten used to Hunk waking him; he always yanked the curtains open to let in the dawning day. For six months, though, that hadn’t happened. He wasn’t sure why he kept expecting it.

Groaning, Lance shrugged the feeling off and dragged himself from the bed to open them himself. He squinted at the dawn and turned away with another groan. The barracks had been specially built for them, just as there was a fort reserved just for them once they’d come into their true powers. Hunk and Pidge were already there so Lance was left with the bedroom and joined bathroom all to himself.

It also meant that Hunk wasn’t around to complain about all the oils and lotions Lance had discovered. When he’d first arrived in the capital, half a year after he’d turned fifteen, Lance had found a lot of interesting things. Shops and items he didn’t know existed. He’d been overjoyed and practically flew around the city, taking it all in. Hunk and Pidge had often watched him, amused at his expense. But Lance didn’t care, not when he found out that there was such a thing as hair and skincare. He’d managed to get rid of a lot of spots, something which Keith still thought was unnecessary.

Speaking of Keith, Lance started on his morning routine, knowing full well that he’d be annoyed if Lance was late to their spell practice. Again. Lance didn’t know why he cared so much when Keith always started without him, anyway. He paused in the act of opening a lotion bottle and sighed. That was one of the things that Lance couldn’t understand about Keith and that irritated him, just as much as Lance’s new obsession with all these sweet-scented oils frustrated Keith. There had been many a time Keith caught him sneaking out of the barracks to go buy some more with the monetary allowance the kingdom was giving them. Keith always said it was a waste: Lance would make a clever retort along the lines of how they were wasted on Keith’s face.

Shaking away his thoughts, Lance began to make tracks on his morning, cleaning his face rigorously and fixing his hair. While he let things settle, he looked out his uniform. It was an elegant thing, somewhat like the uniforms worn by the military officers. There was a slimming grey jacket like the lowest officers wore with a silvery insignia. That was paired with white trousers which were mostly covered by the thigh-high boots they’d been given. Hunk had been given an all-white version when he came into his powers, with a yellow lion on his breast rather than the vague v-shaped thing Lance and Keith had. Pidge got a green one and Lance was holding out hope he’d be able to get a blue one.

If he even got his powers.

Forcing that away, he smoothed everything down, shot himself an actually convincing grin at himself in the mirror and made his way from the room. As he walked through the corridors, he said hello to the people that he passed, even filching an apple from a woman carrying a bowlful of fruit through the hall. Everyone knew him, mainly because he’d been the one to convince Hunk to sneak to the kitchens. He’d smoothed their way with a lot of flirting and sweet-talking. It had been the same when he discovered the perfect place for Pidge to go when she wanted some time to fiddle with her contraptions where their instructions wouldn’t frown at her. The gazebo at the far end of the garden had been swept clear often by members of the staff that Lance had pleaded with until they caved.

Keith was a different story. Sure, they all got on relatively well together but there was something off about Keith. It was as if, for the two and a half years they’d known each other, he kept throwing up walls at random times. Lance could be friendly with him one minute and be having an argument with him the next. It was exhausting. And then there were the times that none of them nor their instructors knew where he’d disappeared to. He was convinced Keith left the barracks for whatever reason but then he’d be scolding Lance for doing the same thing. All of it was infuriating, as was finding Keith tapping his foot as he waited for Lance that very morning.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“In bed,” said Lance, rolling his eyes. He flicked the apple core aside and watched it roll to a stop a few paces away.

“How can you be so unconcerned?” Keith flung a hand into the air in exasperation. “We don’t have much longer to spar and _you_ need all the practice you can get. _Try_ to take this seriously.”

Lance frowned at him. “I _am_ taking it seriously. I’m just not completely obsessed with it, like _you_ are.”

“It’s not an obsession,” Keith protested. “This is important.”

“I _know_ that!” Lance snapped.

“Then act like it!”

“You-” Lance took a step back. Then his shock was swept away by anger and he stepped forward to jab a finger in Keith’s direction. “What’s your problem? You’re being a real jerk this morning.” In fact, it had been a while since they had argued with quite this viciousness. Lance couldn’t understand why Keith was being so mean and it hurt, far more than it had in the beginning.

“I’m-” Keith broke off, taking a breath and expelling it in a huff. “Never mind. Forget it. We’re late enough as it is, so let’s just get started.”

“Woah, no,” said Lance, making a cutting gesture with his hand. Keith flinched which would be insulting if that wasn’t the exact gesture needed for a spell they’d affectionately dubbed the Slicer. It was the one spell Lance consistently had trouble with. For some reason, creating an invisible but sharp blade for fighting with was just beyond him. Scowling at Keith (who seemed to be getting ready to summon his own blade), Lance said, “I’m not sparring with you. Not while you’re being like this.”

“It’s the best way to get practice.”

“Sure, if you want to be cut off at the knees,” Lance muttered, well aware that his blades seemed to always fire into the ground. This courtyard had the evidence carved into the stone slabs and the partially non-existent pillars.

“You’re just not trying hard enough, Lance!” Keith said, shifting his weight to look more condescending than ever.

Lance stared at him, aghast. “I’m- No. Nope. That’s just…” He shook his head. “I’m using those dummies. You can stay over here, being Moody McGee.”

Keith’s frown faded into a confused look. “Who?”

Rolling his eyes, Lance didn’t bother to answer and stepped around him, heading to the corner they kept the mangled dummies. Using a few minor spells, Lance set three up in a row and began to try summoning a blade. Behind him, he could hear the swishing noise of Keith’s blade, slicing through the air.

As usual, his spells kept slipping from his hands and slamming into the ground. It wasn’t long until his boots were covered in bits of stone. This was the most frustrating thing about waiting for his powers: since no-one knew what they would be or even if he was the one the prophecy was about, they had to teach him general spells. Apparently, this didn’t help him if he didn’t have an affinity to those spells. This one seemed to be a prime example of it. And it didn’t help that Keith was behind him, perfectly casting the spell, _judging_ him.

Irritation bubbled through him and, when he cast the spell again, he flung his hand out in a wide arc. With a whipping noise, the blade followed his motion and Lance watched in shock as the dummies were sliced in two simultaneously. They fell to the floor with a clatter. Lance stared at them, confused. Behind him, he could hear nothing. He wondered if he’d caught Keith’s attention.

Evidently, he had, for Keith said, a little breathlessly, “Did _you_ do that?”

Snorting, Lance turned to him. “Well, it wasn’t you.”

“Was that a fluke?” asked Keith, sounding intrigued.

That’s when what he did hit him. He’d been the one to destroy the dummies this time. Not Hunk with his bludgeoning rocks or Pidge with her vines or Keith with his perfectly casted blade or Thace demonstrating with his own magic. And, now that his heart wasn’t beating as fast, that the anger bubbling within him had calmed, he knew it definitely _wasn’t_ a fluke. He’d wanted to create the blade and he’d wanted to send it away from him and he’d wanted to send it towards the dummies, despite standing several paces from them.

“No…” he said, slowly. For a moment, he stared at his hands. Then he lifted them and stuck the dummies back together with his spell. Lance paused and glanced over his shoulder at Keith who was watching intently, barely containing his eagerness. Letting out the breath he held, Lance stretched a hand out and concentrated. Once he felt his brain snag on the right spell, he swept his hand in an arc and sent the Slicer blade crashing into the dummies once more. As soon as he felt it leave his hand, though, Lance swept his hand through the air and another arcing blade cut the top half of the dummies into two once more. Everything fell to the ground with a clatter, part of one dummy rolling towards them before stilling, rocking to and fro.

There was a short silence. Lance ruined it by whooping and hopping from foot to foot in his excitement. When he turned to Keith, eyes wide, he found Keith’s eyes on him, a fond smile on his lips. He’d seen it before and felt like it meant something but he’d never figured it out. He was too ecstatic to think about it right then so he ignored it for lunging at Keith and drawing him into a one-armed hug.

“Well done,” Keith said, trying to free himself.

“Did you _see_ that?!” Lance shouted in his ear. “Did you-?”

“ _Yes_ , Lance,” replied Keith, exasperated now. He ducked out from under Lance’s arm and put some distance between them. “I mean, it’s not exactly what the spell is for, but…”

Pouting, Lance jabbed at Keith’s shoulder. “Way to bring a man down, Keith. Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that…” Keith grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and looking away.

The grimace that Lance could see on Keith’s face knocked the fight out of him. He was right, of course. Sighing, Lance looked back at the ‘dead’ dummies. “I mean, at least it’s doing what I want now,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do it.”

“What?” said Keith, looking up in surprise. “Why not?”

“Uh… Because it’s been months and I still break up the floor rather than hit a dummy?”

“Well, yes, but…” Keith looked him up and down. “You always seem…”

“Like I don’t care?” Lance suggested.

“No, I- No. You… Cocky,” Keith said, his face twisting in frustration and some other emotion Lance couldn’t parse. “You always seem… confident in yourself.”

Lance shrugged. “‘Seem’, yeah.” They fell silent at his words. Keith opened and closed his mouth a few times. Lance shifted, uncomfortable in the strange atmosphere. “Anyway. I’m, uh, gonna practice…?”

“Mm.” Briefly, Keith looked as if he was going to say something. Then he nodded and turned away. “Okay. I’m going to… be over here.” He walked off and Lance watched him go before he wrenched his gaze away and magically fixed up the dummies.

* * *

According to one of the kitchen staff, Shiro had come to visit. Lance had been startled by the news and dropped his spoon in his broth. He had spent the rest of his afternoon break trying to scrub the mess out of his jacket. Once he’d gotten most of it out, he headed back to the training grounds where he’d last seen Keith. Shiro was more likely to be there than the dining hall.

As he reached the last corner, he heard voices and slowed, frowning. They sounded loud as they echoed off the empty stone walls. Lance could tell exactly who was talking and he strained to make out what they were saying: it wasn’t often that Keith and Shiro had an argument.

“-might attack before his birthday,” Shiro was saying.

“He’s not ready,” Keith argued. “You can’t put him on the front lines yet.”

“I will if it’s necessary. Besides, you’re not ready, either. There’s still a few more months before you gain your true powers.”

Intrigued, Lance flattened his back to the wall before the turn and leaned further out to listen better. He didn’t dare turn his head to look. If he caught either of the men’s eyes, they’d shut up. So he took a deep breath and tried to quiet his beating heart so he could hear better.

“I can fight better than him,” Keith insisted. “I’ve mastered the spells-”

“That is not the point, Keith.”

“Besides,” added Keith, “he’d be better suited for long-range attacks so you shouldn’t send him out to fight till he's got that under control. He managed to hit the dummies today. It was… strange.”

“‘Strange’?” Shiro snorted. “I see. That’s informative.”

“Oh, shut up, Shiro.”

Lance blinked. He’d never heard Keith talk to Shiro like that. And Shiro sounded sly and sarcastic. Whenever he spoke to Lance or any of the others, he spoke with honesty and conviction. To Lance, they didn’t sound like themselves and it was a little disorienting.

“Look,” said Shiro. “I’m not going to be sending either of you out until we know exactly how the Galra operate. They’re still a mystery to us.”

There was a pause. “But you _will_ send us out, right, Shiro?”

A breathy sound; a sigh. “Keith-”

“No, Shiro! I can do this! Stop treating me like a little kid!”

“How can I?” Shiro retorted. “How can I, when the world’s like this? You’ve been training for this since you were a child, Keith! That wasn’t-” Shiro broke off. When he next spoke, there was a pained note to his words, the weight of the world dropping them like rocks into the air. “How can I send my little brother out there when it’s getting more and more dangerous?”

Everything stopped. Maybe Keith responded, maybe he didn't but Lance had stopped listening. The whole kingdom knew that there was more than one prince. Shiro was the Crown Prince while his younger brother was a mystery. A sickly child, he had been kept out of the public eye for much of his life. Though he had reportedly gotten better over the years, no-one knew him well enough to be able to recognise him.

Keith had introduced himself as the son of the richest people in the capital but Lance had never even considered that he was a part of the royal family. For that matter, Shiro had never acted as if they knew each other before Keith was found. And both of them… Both of them were Lance's friends. Sure, Shiro was a prince and Lance was just a lowly farmer’s son - not even as important as a farmer - but they could talk to each other easily. With all the time they spent together and despite the fact that Keith could be horrible to him sometimes, Lance still thought of Keith as a friend, too. This revelation knocked the breath from Lance; he couldn’t breathe through the betrayal.

Loneliness hit him next. As happened often, he found himself missing his family. Something so important wouldn’t have been hidden among them. Besides, were they taking good care of Kaltenecker? How much had Solana grown? Homesickness affected him often, but Hunk and Pidge and even Keith helped stave it off; all of them felt like family so it helped. But Hunk and Pidge were gone and Keith…

Angry and upset, Lance almost missed what was said next. “You _promised_ me, Shiro,” Keith was saying. He sounded like he was becoming increasingly aggravated.

“And I’ll keep it,” Shiro assured him, voice calm and even now. “But you’re not ready yet. Neither is Lance.”

With anger flaring through him, Lance spun around the corner and marched up to them, unable to hear the rest of what Shiro was saying. Shiro had his back to him so he didn’t see Lance coming. Keith, on the other hand, did and his eyes widened. Just as Shiro began to turn, Lance stopped a few paces from them and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is this?” he hissed.

Fully turned towards him, Shiro glanced at Keith, clearly wondering how much Lance had heard. “Um, Lance?” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Keith added. “We-” He broke off when he noticed Lance’s glare. It was trained on him, the one Lance was most annoyed. Lance hoped his hair went on fire and made him go bald. “Why are you looking at me like that-?”

“You’re a prince?!” Lance yelled, throwing a hand up. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Keith winced. “I…” He glanced at Shiro. “I didn’t want you to think of me as a prince.”

“So you lied to us? Lied to me?” Lance scoffed and turned his head to stare out at the courtyard. Clouds must have covered the sun for the ground was no longer split between shadows and light. “And after I confided in you, too. How-?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Keith insisted. “I saw the way you were around Shiro when you arrived so I thought it was better for you to… never know.” He sent a sharp look at Shiro who gave him a helpless look in return.

“The way I was?”

Rolling his eyes, Keith crossed his arms. “You were fawning over him so much you kept messing up your spells.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “So you thought I was just gonna be useless for two years?”

That shocked Keith enough to get his eyes widening. “No,” he said hurriedly, dropping his arms a little. “That wasn’t-”

“Forget it,” Lance snapped. “You both clearly think I’m useless-”

“Lance,” said Shiro, urgently.

“Maybe I’m not even supposed to be here. There was only a, what, slim chance or whatever that I was, right?” He frowned at them both. “Hunk and Pidge are the heroes you need. They’re really good. But I-” His voice broke and he ducked his head, well aware of the tears welling up.

“What, no!” Keith exclaimed. “That’s not-” He stopped when Lance spun on his heel. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home,” Lance said, shortly.

“Do you mean…?” Shiro said.

“The farm.” Lance’s fists were clenched and he dug his fingernails into his palms to try to hold off the threatening tears. “I wanna go home. I miss my family. And it’s my birthday in a couple of days. I wanna see them. So I’m gonna go and…” He paused again, chewing at his lip. The anger and hurt had passed. Both Keith and Shiro had their reasons for lying to him, he knew that and he knew that he shouldn’t take it to heart. But now all that Lance felt was tired and lonely. He missed his mother’s hugs and wanted one right that instant. Yet… If he never got his power and didn’t return, would he actually doom the kingdom? Could he help them without these special powers he was supposed to come into? He hoped he could. Lance would do anything they needed to help get rid of the Galra threat; he couldn’t let anyone else be hurt by them. Still, he wasn’t sure he would be wanted and that was what helped make his decision.

When he forced himself to look over his shoulder at them, Lance managed to say, “I’ll come back - if you need me.” Then, before he could cave under Shiro’s remorseful expression or wonder at Keith’s stricken one, he stalked off, hoping he could leave before anyone talked him into staying.

* * *

Nobody attempted to stop him, not even when he was saddling up Klara, the horse they’d taught him to ride on when he first reached the capital. The guards opened the gates, people dodged out of the way as he rode through the streets, he passed through the open city gates with a salute from the city guards and nobody really acknowledged him. There was no commotion behind him, not even a breath of protest. Lance’s heart sank and he tightened his grip on the reins: he dug his heels in and flew along the roads he had once trudged along.

He felt a strange sense of grief. Did Keith and Shiro care about him at all? Why didn't they try to stop him? Should he even _want_ them to stop him? Would he come into his true powers or would he be just as useless as they obviously thought he was? What would he do then?

All these thoughts circled in his head, obscuring his vision with his blurry tears. He let them fall and trusted Klara to keep to the road, to keep straight, to get him home. That was probably why it happened as he rode through a forest, trees blurring to green and brown.

Without warning, Klara skidded to a stop and reared up. Not expecting it, and not used to riding, Lance toppled off the horse with a yell. He landed, hard, on his back and the wind was knocked out of him. Gasping for breath, he blinked the tears from his eyes until he could see again and watched as Klara bolted through the packed trees. Turning his head, Lance looked up at a group of cloaked figures who were standing in the middle of the road. They were watching him struggle, none of them making any move to help him.

When he could finally breathe enough and could bring himself to move, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The cloaked people looked as if they were waiting for him. “Who are you?” he snapped, hurt and confused.

“We are the Galra,” said one of them. They were standing slightly ahead of the group and Lance could only presume they were the leader. The hood shifted back as they raised their head to reveal a wizened old woman with lank, white hair and piercing golden eyes. Even the whites of her eyes were gold. “I am Haggar and you will come with me now.”

Hearing those words sent a chill through Lance. The Galra were the threat to the kingdom that the prophecy had been about. They attacked villages and small towns, draining people of their latent magic or brainwashing them into fighting each other. Afterward, their attacks on military bases increased in power. Pidge's brother sometimes wrote and told them about it, though Lance wasn’t sure how much worse it had been since the spring. Nobody knew how they managed to use those people’s magic for themselves and it was truly unsettling. And now they were here. Lance was under no illusion that this was a coincidence. But, if they had somehow known that he would come along this particular path, then that would mean that they were there for _him_ …

“What do you want?” he asked, climbing to his feet. Hiding a shudder, Lance readied a shield spell, just in case.

Sure enough, Haggar raised a hand, a sure sign she would be casting a spell. “We are here for you, the weakest of the Paladins.”

“The who?” Lance had only heard their little band called the trainees, the young heroes, the kingdom's defenders.

Haggar scoffed. “You truly are the weakest, just like the prophecy stated.”

“What?” Lance whispered, almost forgetting his spell. Despair filled him. Had Shiro lied to him? Was Lance only invited to the capital for this?

“You will be easy to obtain,” Haggar said, ignoring him.

Black magical energy suddenly shot towards Lance. Despite the way his mind was reeling, he raised his own hand and produced a shield. Before Haggar’s magic reached him, he was able to see the colour of his own magic. For years, his and the others’ magic had all been white. Shiro said it was a sign of their purity, Keith a lack of experience and Pidge and Hunk believed it was because of who had taught them. Now, though, Lance’s shield was blue. Alarmed, he almost let go of it but he still had it up when Haggar’s magic hit his.

It was more powerful than Lance had ever seen or felt. He tried to dig his heels in but he was still pushed back the way he’d come, great gouges in the road forming in his wake. Even as he was pushed back, the shield began to crumble under Haggar’s power. To Lance, it felt like his shield and magic were being eaten away. Tendrils of her magic slipped through the forming cracks, reaching for him. Lance tried to lean away from them and doubt invaded his mind. If she could do this to his shield, what chance did he have?

With that thought, his magic faltered and his shield dissolved. Instantly, Haggar’s magic hit him square in the chest. Gasping as he lost his breath, Lance flew through the air and slammed into a tree. He cried out weakly as pain radiated from his already bruised back. Then he fell to the ground and he only just managed to catch hold of the branches to keep himself upright.

For a brief moment, Lance was relieved that he was still conscious. But he wasn’t for much longer. As soon as he looked up he saw Haggar’s magic racing towards him and, this time, when it hit him, the pain was so intense that the forest faded into darkness.

* * *

This time, Lance woke to a strange purple light infusing the room. He couldn’t work out why that was happening. Was it his true powers? But he soon realised that he wasn’t in a bed, at least not the one in the barracks; there was no soft mattress or blankets. Instead, he was lying on something hard and, when he tried to move, he realised that his wrists and ankles were bound to the surface of it.

Panic made him gasp, the noise echoing in the room. Which, now that he looked around, was more like a rocky chamber. He seemed to be underground. And strapped to a table, judging by the fact that he couldn’t see the ground. Things were not looking good. It took him a moment to remember what had happened and, when he did, his eyes widened. With several sharp tugs, he tried to pull free.

“You’re awake,” said a hauntingly familiar voice.

Lance turned his head and bit his lip to hide his grimace when he saw Haggar. She was standing far enough away that, even if he did get free, she had room to move. Shifting, he directed the palms of his hands towards his wrists. “Do you really think this’ll hold me?” Lance demanded and tried to cast a Slicer spell, hoping that it would cut through whatever was holding him down. However, nothing happened and he stilled, confused. He had definitely cast the spell. Why hadn’t it worked?

“Yes,” Haggar said, answering his previous question. “Your magic is dampened in this room. Nothing you try to cast, no matter how powerful, will work. Whereas _my_ powers…” She lifted her arms and a black, writhing magic spilled from them, taking up more and more of the room as it expanded.

“W-Wait,” said Lance, hurriedly. “What…? Why am I here? What do you want from me?!”

The magic receded enough for Haggar to step _through_ it. Lance was pretty sure that wasn’t possible. Unconsciously, he shrank away from the woman as she towered over him, a dangerous smirk on her face. “There was a prophecy.”

“Yeah, I heard,” snarled Lance, trying to sound brave and heroic.

“Not that one, you silly boy. There was another.” Haggar was suddenly right next to the table and Lance jerked, wishing he could reach her, push her away, escape. “According to this prophecy, one of the prophesied Paladins would be weak.” She paused as she reached out a finger with a long, pointed fingernail at the end. With the tip of the nail, she dragged her finger down the side of Lance’s face. Lance tried to stay as still as possible, not wanting her to draw blood. Haggar’s smirk widened. “Weak enough to corrupt,” she continued and Lance bit back a whimper. “If this paladin did not come into their powers in the moonlight on the day of their birthday, then things would go very differently.”

Lance felt as if he couldn’t breathe, alarmed by her statement. What was worse was that he believed her. Hunk and Pidge were amazing. Keith was a _prince_ , there was no way the Galra could have caught him. But Lance… He was just a humble farmer boy from the outskirts of the kingdom. Did he truly matter in the grand scheme of things?

“How… How much differently?” he murmured, too scared to open his mouth any wider.

“We shall find out,” said Haggar and let her black magic swoop past her. It loomed over Lance, shifting until it looked like a huge monster, poised to attack. He barely had the time to cry out in fear before the magic crashed onto him.

Then there was only intense pain and darkness.

* * *

An eternity passed and he woke. There would be more pain, he knew, before he fell unconscious again. Maybe that voice would ask him questions again. He never had the answers because he could no longer remember his name. All he knew was pain.

And yet…

Nothing was happening. He had kept his eyes closed in a vain effort to hold back the tears so he couldn’t understand why they weren't hurting him. There was only the lingering echoes of pain, the sort that would hurt more if he moved. Somewhere beside him were hushed voices.

Then he realised that he was no longer on the table. Whatever he was lying on was soft. His arms were by his sides rather than pinned above his head. He was free.

His eyes snapped open and he prepared to cast a spell, any spell, to get him away from those people whose names he had forgotten. Panic made the strangely blue energy take on shape, swirling around him. Eyes darting around, his brain caught up with the fact that he seemed to be in a man-made room. Frantically, he scrabbled to find purchase on what he assumed was a bed so that he could get to his feet. Even that made the throbbing pain sharpen and he made a muffled noise against his will.

“Lance!”

That one word said in a familiar voice cleared his mind and, suddenly, he could remember who he was and what had been happening to him and why. But it also meant that what he’d been hoping for had come to pass, despite how unlikely a rescue would be. Lance shot upright, gasping at the pain as he stared into the corner of an unfamiliar room. There, Hunk and Pidge were watching him, eyes wide. Closer to the bed was Keith, sitting on a chair and staring at him, wearing armour with a red lion engraved on it.

“Wha-?” Lance began.

“Oh, thank the gods!” Hunk exclaimed, flailing his hands around. Unlike the last time Lance had seen him, Hunk's movements didn’t cause a localised earthquake. “You were really out of it, man!” The worry was clear on his face.

“What-?” Lance croaked, suddenly aware that he hadn’t had anything to drink in what felt like forever. Not to mention all the screaming he remembered doing.

“Here,” said Keith, quietly. When Lance turned to look at him, he was holding a glass of water. Lance tried to reach up to take it but, when his arm trembled too much, Keith urged him back against the pillows and lifted it to his lips instead. Keith helped him drink a few mouthfuls of water while Pidge explained matters.

“Keith… and Shiro went to Slav to make sure you’d be okay,” she told him and Lance noticed that no vines came out of the woodwork to strangle then. That had happened simply because she had opened her mouth before she left the barracks, something which affected Lance more often than not. “He told them that there was a very high chance the Galra would kidnap you.”

“Ninety-five point five five percent,” Keith mumbled, sounding annoyed.

“So Shiro summoned us,” Hunk said, and we went to a suspected Galra hideout. It was lucky you were there. Otherwise…”

Pidge scoffed. “They didn’t put up much of a fight,” she pointed out and Lance felt chills race down his spine. If that was true, then Haggar had fled to leave him for his friends. Why? He shook the terrifying memories from his thoughts just in time to hear Pidge add, “I’m sure Lance could have fought his way out eventually.” She patted Hunk's arm but her concern was evident in the way she gripped him tightly when she rested her hand there.

By that point, Lance felt he could speak. “What day is it?” he asked. How long had he been underground before they found him? Had the Galra had the time to do anything permanent to him?

“It’s your birthday,” Pidge answered him. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

“‘What’s left’...?” Lance echoed, trying to figure out why that gave him mixed emotions.

“Yeah,” said Hunk gently, eyes wide in worry. “The sun’s already set but the moon's only just risen.”

“The moon…” said Lance, slowly. Suddenly, he remembered what Haggar said and, with a cry, he began to scramble from the bed. “The moon!” he exclaimed, stumbling as the blankets caught around his ankles.

“Wha-? Lance!” Keith said, lunging towards him. “You’re not-”

Lance dodged out of his way and gestured at the shuttered window. “I need-” He broke off, turned and dashed for the door. Ignoring the movement behind him, he wrenched the door open and then pulled it closed to delay the others. Lance didn't know if what Haggar said was true but something within him felt like he was running out of time. He couldn’t stop to explain.

They seemed to be in someone's farmhouse with crudely made knick-knacks hung on the walls. Lance ignored them in favour of taking the stairs two at a time. Shouts came from behind him and that was probably what alerted Shiro to the commotion; he appeared out of the living area and stared as Lance nimbly stepped around him. Just like Keith, his armour and sword looked out of place in such a small house. Ignoring Shiro calling after him, Lance raced for the door and pulled on the latch.

In no time at all, he was outside. Up above was a full moon, it's silvery light shining down on a field, a little boundary wall and a wide road beyond. It also shone onto Lance and he immediately felt calm. All the urgency seeped out of him. The pain, however, remained, intensified now that he wasn’t feeling as frantic. There was still shouting from the house as Lance jogged into the middle of the shadowy field.

Then he stopped - and everything stilled. No sounds drifted to him on the wind, no owls hooting or rustling of the breeze. The trees stopped dancing and seemed to lean towards him as if waiting for something. Behind him, the noises of pursuit had stopped.

Just as Lance was getting used to the silence, something rose up within him. It washed away the pain and Lance knew it wouldn't return. He could hear the dripping of water from the roots of plants and trees. Far beneath him, he felt the swooping path of an underground stream. Inside the house, there was a bucket of water taken from the well at the back; he could hear the dripping and splashing of it from here. Up in the bedroom they had been using, Lance could feel the water he had left in the glass, could feel how settled and smooth it was. Over the wall and across the road, through the forest and down a sloping valley, Lance could feel the roar of a wide river, the tumbling water reverberating through his chest the longer he acknowledged it. Far up above, Lance could feel the clouds which were lazily crossing the sky. None of them were ready to let rain fall but, when Lance pulled at them with his senses, the water fell onto him - and only him.

Lance laughed and tilted his head up to feel the rain and the freedom on his face. Spreading his arms, he spun around, practically dancing in the rain. The water spun with him, twisting around him in fancy patterns. When he looked at the house, he found his friends watching him, their eyes wide with shock. Keith was closest and he was the first to move, closing the distance till he was just out of range of the water.

“You… You got your powers,” he said slowly, sounding dumbfounded.

“Yup,” said Lance, lowering his arms. He let the rain stop and the water fall, splashing on their boots. Opening his mouth, he tried to think of something to say but nothing came to him.

Keith smiled at him instead. “Well,” he said, “happy birthday.”

A thrill shot through Lance at how sincere Keith sounded, at that soft smile. But he didn't get to respond because, at that moment, Hunk charged at them and dragged both of them into a crushing hug. While Hunk cried and Keith squirmed, Lance laughed, relieved and delighted all at once.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, Lance doesn't get over the kidnapping that quickly. But he has his powers so he'll be able to kick ass and drown everyone. And they all go to visit his family for a birthday party! 
> 
> NB: I didn't put this in because it disrupted the flow of the story so I decided to put it here. Because Lance lived so far out from the capital and he didn't have a horse to ride, he was the last one to reach the capital when they were all summoned a couple of years beforehand, around when Hunk's 16th birthday was. The other three started their training because Slav was getting hysterical about percentages and whether they could afford to lose time. So Lance was a little behind the other three in terms of learning and he always thought that affected his performance. Which, well, affected his performance. So... I suppose Haggar was right about him being the weakest. ... Huh. How about that.
> 
> NB #2: Keith was a 'sickly child' because he kept getting the flu/had fevers. That's because his powers are so powerful that they were trying to manifest before he was ready. And so he got ill and had to be in bed a lot. Which... is probably why Shiro is overprotective of him. ... Seriously, how did this story do that? This thing has a mind of its own.


End file.
